Excerpts From My Mind
by Hekate1308
Summary: Small ficlets previously posted on tumblr. Destiel.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Now and then, I post ficlets on tumblr when the mood strikes and I thought I would put them up here as well.**

 **Basically, I've fallen into a Destiel trap and I can't get out, but I can't say that I'll only post such stories here. It's a small storage for things my mind comes up with, I guess. Enjoy!**

When the witch tells them there's nothing she can do, the spell is irreversible and Dean is a normal four-year-old who simply has to grow up and live his life again, Sam feels something in him break.

He lost his big brother for good.

They will try to find a cure, of course; but as he kills the witch, he feels that she spoke the truth, for fear of her life.

Dean is gone. He's not, technically; but everything that shaped him and made him Dean is gone, never to return, because he can't live the same life over again and Sam would never force him to.

If his brother has to start over, he'll start over happy.

He's not the only one who lost something important today, he realizes when he opens the door of their motel room and Cas sees his face.

Cas, who is colouring with Dean.

Cas, who's human once more, and human to stay.

Cas, who fell completely and forever just a few short months ago, and even though he never said as much, it was for Dean, only for Dean.

They finally got over themselves and now they have lost everything.

Dean was happy for the first time in years.

"Sam!" Dean rushes to him and demands to be picked up and Sam does, while Cas, his eyes shining, flees to the bathroom.

Sam lost his brother.

Cas lost everything he fell for.

Dean likes them; Dean is a happy child; the last few days, after the spell was cast and the witch fled, have proven that.

But a happy child is not the same as the man he was, the man Cas loves, the man he aches for.

Sam takes his place colouring with his brother, his child now, he supposes, and Cas doesn't leave the bathroom until late at night.

They don't talk about his bloodshot eyes.

It's surprisingly easy to adapt. Dean soon loves both of them, and he eagerly accepts their love and guardianship in return. He wants books be read to him and movies be watched with him and someone to play with, and it's easy to comply because his brother as a child is simply adorable.

Sam does research and helps other hunters and hopes he'll eventually become the rescource Bobby once was and that he'll manage to reestablish the men (and women, he won't forget Charlie's legacy) of Letters, he grieves, he manages.

Cas becomes more and more depressed every day. He tries to hide it, but Sam can see through his empty smile, as he plays with Dean and teaches him letters and numbers. He's Dean's favourite, they noticed that early on, apparently he'll always have a weakness for his angel, but it doesn't help someone who loves the man a child used to be.

The days Cas spends in bed grow more and more frequent.

Sam doesn't understand the whole dimension of Cas' loss until he hears him say to Dean in a quiet voice, "Five months ago to the day, you made me the happiest of men".

Sam's heart thinks while Dean, who Cas has taught the hours and months, puts the pieces together, then laughs and exclaims, "I didn't know you then, silly".

Dean turned into a child three months ago.

The Apocalypse, the angel and demon tablets, Lilith, Crowley, Rowena, Lucifer, the Mark of Cain, the Darkness, and after everything, after they beat the odds and made it out alive, two months of happiness was all Dean and Cas ever got, all they'll ever have.

A lifetime in front of him, and Cas only has the memory of two fleeting months to keep himself going.

A resolution grows in Sam; he fights with himself with a few days because in a way, he is selfish; he doesn't want to lose Cas too; but seeing him lose his appetite and trying to find traces of the Dean gone forever in the boy running around becomes too much.

Sam took the spell from the witch in the hopes that it would provide a clue. Now it provides salvation.

"The spell cannot be undone" he says one night after they've brought Dean to bed.

"I know" Cas says flatly, without emtion.

Sam clears his throat.

"But… it can be cast again".

Cas' eyes widen; he stares and stammers and tries to object, tries to fight against his own desires.

Sam already knows the outcome.

The next morning, two little boys are chasing each other around the bunker. Dean doesn't seem to miss big Cas as long as he has small Cas; the appear to be the same age, and his brother has already decided that Cas is his "bestest friend forever".

Sam smiles a smile that, while laced with unavoidable pain, is not unhappy.

It's the same smile he gives them when, twenty years later, fresh out of college, Dean and Cas step up to him holding hands and Dean announces, in a voice that brooks no argument, "We are in love, Dad".


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel Novak dies at the age of seventy-eight, holding the hand of his best friend, the friend he has loved for over sixty years without letting him know, the friend whose wedding he celebrated, the friend whose children he watched grow up, and his only regret is that he'll never see those green eyes again, the green eyes no age or sorrow could ever change.

Thankfully, he is wrong. He wakes up in a house, a nice, big house he used to dream about when he was sixteen, was falling in love with the nice boy who sat next to him in English and imagined a future with him in a place like this, their children running about.

He smiles now at the silly dreams of a young boy, who for years wouldn't understand that his best friend was heterosexual, his heart breaking over and over again when Dean went on dates.

By the time he met Lisa, Cas had grown resigned and content, and was happy for them.

He was part of their family, and he didn't wish for anything more.

And now, in his Heaven, he can visit his memories whenever he wishes to.

And the house is everything he ever wanted - except for one thing, but it was an impossible dream that's still circling in his mind, still giving him the Heaven he wished for when he was sixteen.

There's even Dean's favourite beer in the fridge, and a PS4 is ready under the tv. Dean never threw his out, despite new systems appearing; his grandchildren learned to play on it.

It's the perfect house for them, and Cas is happy with his memories and the dreams of his boyhood.

When he looks in a mirror, he realizes he's his thirty-year-old self. Just as well. Dean was single when they were thirty, and they spent every waking moment together.

Cas is happy. Cas is content.

There's a knock on his door and Ash strides in - Ash, who did in a freaky accident thirty years ago and was thoroughly missed whenever a computer in their vicinity failed.

Cas hugs him, surprised, and Ash explains about the string theory and how he can travel from one Heaven to another; he shows Cas how.

And Cas sees his parents again, and his grandparents, and the siblings who have gone before him, and he doesn't think he's ever been happier.

He'll even see Dean again, eventually. Ash promises to get him the moment he realizes Dean has arrived, and there's a knowledge behind his eyes that Cas doesn't dare to question.

No one knew. He clings to this.

There's just one thing he's concerned about, and that's the fact that soulmates share a Heaven. He doesn't mind that Dean and Lisa wil spend eternity together, he's happy for them, but he worries what will happen if he has a soulmate, if the door opens and someone he never met steps in, and he has to get to know someone he never found in his lifetime.

Maybe they'll except something from him, a love that will never be redirected.

But things turn out differently.

One day, Cas doesn't know how long it's been, Dean opens the door.

Cas runs into his wide-opened arms.

"Cas" Dean mumbles into his hair, "Should've known you'd be the first I see".

Cas grows cold in the arms he only ever knew warm, full of comfort.

"What do you mean?" he asks, pulling back. "Didn't Ash send you?"

"Ash? He's here too? Nah, man, I just arrived. Literally just closed my eyes a minute ago and here I am".

He doesn't understand the look of horror on Cas' face until Ash does in fact come a few minutes later and starts an explanation that Cas can't bear to hear; he runs, hides in the memory of a birthday party held for him when he was six and didn't know Dean yet.

Dean is his soulmate.

Dean should have been his. He should have been Dean's.

But Dean loves Lisa, and Cas will spend eternity watching him leave for her again and again.

Is this punishment for a love he knew to be hopeless? For indulging himself, soaking up every hug, every kind word, every mark of affection, pretending he had something he could never have?

"Cas" Dean says behind him.

Cas turns his head.

"How did you find me?"

"Ash explained how the how soulmate-finding-thing works".

He sits down next to him and they watch his six-year-old self laughing for a few moments.

"I never - I mean - "

"I know".

"Did you..:" Dean trails off and Cas can't lie, doesn't wish to.

The silence is answer enough.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"I would have lost you". Cas speaks the truth, the truth that kept him from calling, from shouting the words in Dean's face a million times.

"I'm sorry" Dean sounds regretful.

"But I can't - "

"Dean. Let's just do this. Let's just live together. We can manage, can't we?"

He knows he sounds desperate, knows the panic he feels at losing Dean forever is making him hysterical, but he can't stop it.

Dean squeezes his hand.

"Of course we can" he promises and repeats one of their favourite maxims. "We'll make it up as we go".

They do.

It's easy to live together; Dean laughs when he sees his old PS4 and keeps remembering small things from Cas' apartment, like the flower vase that stood on the windowsill for twenty years only because Dean found it at a garage sale and it has little bees on them.

They take trips with Ash and learn new things, cultures, languages, watch films they didn't know existed, read books they never heard of.

Cas is happy.

This is all he could ever have hoped for.

Eventually Ash tells them he found Lisa's Heaven, and Dean goes to visit.

"Ben's Dad is her soulmate" he says afterwards, and Cas says automatically, "You're his Dad".

He is. He's raised and loved and looked after his oldest son just like he did with his siblings.

Dean smiles. "I know. You know what I mean".

Cas nods.

"What now?" he asks timidly.

Dean hesitates.

"I love Lisa, and she loves me" he says decidedly. "But - we always knew - we wanted to spend our lives together. And we did. And I hate her garden - everything so orderly".

Their old argument. Cas says nothing.

Dean stays.

They visit Lisa often, and she visits them, and one day she's holding the hand of her soulmate, and she and Dean give each other the nostalgic, slightly sad smile of former lovers.

"I'm happy for her" Dean says later, tears in his eyes, regret in his voice, and Cas can tell that he means it.

He hugs him.

Dean and Cas spend almost all of their time together, until they don't.

He doesn't know what is happening when Dean suddenly starts stuttering around him, or goes away for long periods of time. He thinks he's regretting his decision after all, but instead one day Dean shows up on their doorstep with Jan Swammerdam, and they discuss bees for hours, and afterwards Dean begins, "I never - not once - but" and Cas doesn't comprehend his meaning until he kisses him, and it's warm and comforting and passionate and everything Cas ever dreamed of, and when Dean steps back, there's desire on his face but also confusion.

"I can't say I'm sorry for my mortal life" he supplies, and Cas understands, thinks of his children, thinks of Sam's career, thinks of countless happy hours.

He nods.

"But I can give you all that comes after" Dean promises, and Cas draws him into another kiss and knows that this is it.

This is his Heaven.


	3. Chapter 3

If his brother invited Castiel Novak once again when Dean was expected for dinner, he would start throwing punches.

He had no idea why Sam continued to try and make him be friends with his colleagues and other fellow students from his Stanford days. He was too dumb for any topic they would be interested in, and even if they were so friendly as to keep to normal stuff while talking to him, it was clear that they regarded him as a stupid blue-collar worker.

He'd come close to decking that dick Brady several times.

Castiel Novak, however, was the worst.

Not because he made derigatory comments like the others, or laughed when he didn't get what a dissenting opinion was (really, there was so much legal talk being thrown about, how was he to know?)

No, Castiel Novak was just quiet and stared at Dean, like he was an animal in a zoo because apparently mechanics were strange beings only to be glimpsed when one's car started acting up.

Castiel Novak sat there and stared at Dean, and whenever he glared at him, he would frown.

Sam could continue to talk the guy up - seriously, one could have believed he was a damn saint - but Dean would have none of it. Castiel Novak was yet invited again? Fine, have fun doing all the talking, Sammy.

Sadly, Jess would have none of it; and since they shared a love for Doctor Sexy (he bet Castiel had never heard of that programme) he couldn't resist.

They had just analyzed Doctor Piccolo's new affair, under the gaze of Castiel, of course, and Dean ended a very good argument as to why she and Doctor Sexy were still endgame with a pragmatic, "Or they take the show another way and deny the characters the ending they deserve. So it goes" when Castiel spoke.

"Vonnegut".

"What?" Dean asked, and became aware that they were talking for the first time when he repeated, "Vonnegut. You like Slaughterhouse-Five?"

"Man, it's awesome! I love Timequake too, even if it's a bit strange - "

"You were sick, but now you're well again, and there's work to be done" Castiel quoted and okay, the guy was a bit more attractive than Dean had given him credit for.

This started a discussion about Kilgore Trout that Dean had never thought possible, but when he eventually, laughing, declared "At least we have that in common" Castiel fell silent again. Apparently he was averse to the idea of having anything in common with Dean.

A dick after all. Big surprise.

Not that it mattered.

But after he had left, Sam couldn't stop talking about him. If he'd been Jess, he would have been worried, but she just listened with a smile on her face.

"Only last week he helped that poor mother get custody, even though she couldn't afford a lawyer; everyone loves him, really, because he's so nice".

Dean chose to be quiet. _Nice_ was certainly not a description he would have used.

He would have been content never to see the guy again.

It figured that four days later Castiel Novak strolled into his little garage and started stuttering about his engine.

He couldn't even say what kind of a motor he had, for crying out loud, but Dean still had the car towed.

It must have been Sam who advised him to go to Dean. He couldn't begrudge his brother the attempt to give him more work, but God did he wish he could.

It wasn't a big problem after all, and he told Castiel that he could fix it in half an hour.

It was just his luck that he decided to wait, staring at Dean as he worked.

"And? Anything interesting?" he finally asked fifteen minutes later, annoyed.

"Yes" Castiel answered simply. "It's amazing".

"What is?"

"What you can do".

It threw Dean off a little. Didn't he think he was a stupid blue-collar never-gone-to-college, worthless dude? Dean had always had the impression.

"Well, it's not that impressive - "

"It is. You can fix things that are broken".

Dean laughed. "Well and good, but I don't have a fancy degree on my wall".

"You don't need it" Cas replied. "In my line of work it is required, in yours it isn't. We both can do things the other can't. It's as simple as that".

God that voice… Before he could get a hold of himself, Dean asked, "Why are you always staring at me then when Sam invites us both?"

Suddenly Castiel blushed. Dean stared.

Man he was gorgeous when he did that.

"Sam spent hours talking about you before he introduced us. He said you had more or less raise him and still given him money so he didn't have to work in college, and that you were very kind and handsome, and I could see all of that was true…" he blushed, then stepped back.

"I'm sorry; my brothers always say I'm too blunt - I just don't see the point of - I should go - "

"No, you shouldn't" Dean heard himself say, "You can't have coffee with me then".

Castiel turned around and stared at him in amazement.

Before the day was over, Castiel Novak had become Cas, and Dean had admitted to himself that not all of Sam's friends were dicks, especially when they considered Billy Pilgrim the unsung hero of American literature.

There might have been more coffee dates after that.

And there might have been kisses involved.

Alright, and maybe, a few weeks later, when they entered Sam's apartment hand in hand, he would exclaim "Finally!" and Dean would learn that he and Jess had been trying to set them up from the beginning, but how was he supposed to have known?


	4. Chapter 4

**I am working on a longer version of this, so stay tuned**

"I don't believe this" Dean grumbled to himself for the millionth time in the last half hour, and Sam restrained his urge to strangle brother.

True, it was a bit strange to look at Dean and Cas, turn around and be face-to-face with another Dean and Cas from another universe, but they had had weirder cases in the past.

Maybe he was simply so relaxed because his doppelganger hadn't appeared and was currently, according to Dean's, busy with a "big case" - presumably at court, since the supernatural didn't seem to exist in their world. They had been grilling them since they stumbled out of the closet, and one thing was certain: they had never been hunters in their lives.

Sam had also come to another conclusion. Dean and Cas were confused, and slightly scared by their counterparts, but not as freaked out as he would have expected them to be; and since most of their calm stemmed from constantly being near one another and they were wearing tasteful matching rings, it was easy to guess that there relationship was - somewhat closer than the one his Dean and Cas shared.

Not that they wouldn't have made a good couple, or didn't want it, even. But Dean had been steadfastly ignoring any attempt of Cas' to say or do anything suggesting romance since their friend had fallen once and for all (and how his brother could ignore that he'd mostly done it, had chosen a mortal life, cut off from all his siblings for him, Sam would ask himself until his dying day).

"We're rather surprised too" the other Dean answered his brother drily. Sam couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him; his brother threw him a dirty look.

"What? We might as well make the best we can out of the situation" he said, and Dean snorted.

"Sure, Sammy. We don't even know what the situation is".

"It could be worse" Cas supplied.

"How?"

"They don't want to kill us" he said simply, and Dean groaned but relaxed slightly.

Another example of the truth that Dean did his best to ignore despite it staring him in the face 24/7.

"So the Supernatural is real?" other Cas asked again, with the eagerness of a child. Other Dean chuckled.

"I think we have established that" he answered. Sam didn't know him, obviously, but in the past half hour he had come to see the differences between this Dean and theirs.

He was wearing a shirt, a tie and dresspants for one thing, and a bluge in his short pocket indicated that he was carrying a spectacle case.

Sam made a mental note to ask his brother if his vision had been impaired lately. Vanity or not, he couldn't afford not seeing well when going up against monsters.

Then there was the way he talked. Not that his Dean talked like a redneck or anything, but the other one's speech was… more sophisticated. Polished. All in all, he gave Sam the impression of often talking in public.

He carried himself in much the same way their Dean did - self-assured and at times downright cocky - but there was nothing of the false bravado Sam hated, when his brother had to convince himself that he didn't need any help, that he was fine on his own, brooding and drinking when he could have talked about his problems.

He also looked at Cas with an expression on his face Sam had only seen small glimpses of, when his brother had been convinced no one was watching him.

He was waiting for Dean to catch on, but his brother was still wrapping his head around the fact that his doppelganger had jumped out of a closet like their grandfather had done.

"But think of the possibilites, Dean! There could be Greek Gods running around…"

Sam wasn't going to burst his bubble by pointing out they were mostly bad-tempered and that they'd had to kill a few, and other Dean listened with an indulgent smile.

This Cas and their Cas were very similar, down to the wronly tied tie, even if their Cas was at present wearing the usual hunter gearup - jeans and a t-shirt Sam was sure he'd stolen from Dean's closet.

The only difference between them was that this Cas was sitting very close to Dean and seemed happy in the consciousness that he could do so, and something in Sam's chest constricted painfully at the realization.

How must it feel to know that he'd fallen for a human, and that the human didn't want him the way he wished?

"Actually" their Cas interrupted his counterpart, "I think I know what is going on".

Cas' angelic knowledge had become muddled since his fall; Sam suspected his human mind was trying to protect itself from the vast spaces of an angel's memory.

Nevertheless, Cas pulled an old book out of his duffel bag, but before he could say anything, other Dean became excited.

"Can I see?"

Obviously confused, Cas handed the book to him, and he confirmed Sam's suspicions by taking out his spectacle case and proceeding to put glasses on.

"What the - " Dean began and he gave him a sheepish smile.

"Too many nights reading" he said, shrugging his shoulders.

" _In insufficient light_ " his Cas added, and Sam felt that this was an old argument between them.

"I always had a light" he mumbled.

"A small one, right on the corner of your desk. Before I came along, you didn't even turn on the main light. And you didn't go to the doctor until I -"

"Alright, alright, saviour of my eyesight. Look at this! That's ancient Greek, I would say about thirteen hundred BC…"

"How do you know this stuff?" Dean demanded, and his counterpart looked up, frowning.

"Part of the job".

"You said there was no supernatural in your world, and mechanics don't need books" Dean said dumbly, and Sam wondered if his brother really had never considered that he would have become something different, that he would have actually done well at school if he wanted.

"I teach at Yale" other Dean answered matter-of-factly, and Dean looked like he was about to have a stroke.

"What?" he asked.

"Comparative Literature. Cas here is a religious studies professor" Dean said proudly, and his brother's face made clear that he had never contemplated an academic career for himself.

It hurt more than Sam would have thought.

"But - books?"

"Yes, books. The things you read?" other Dean replied patiently, and Sam reflected that he was probably used to dumb questions from his students.

"I don't like reading" Dean stated, and other Dean rolled his eyes and pronounced one word that had his brother look away self-consciously.

"Vonnegut".

When Dean didn't answer (and Sam decided he was going to get him Vonnegut's collected works for his birthday) he continued smugly, "Knew we weren't that different".

He looked at Cas in a way that caused other Cas to jab him with his ellbow.

"Hey!"

"Hehem" other Cas said.

He smiled at him placidly.

"Sorry, baby, you know I love it when you wear my clothes".

Sam had been wrong. _Now_ Dean was about to have a stroke.

When other Dean took other Cas' hand, he burst out, "What are you doing?"

"Holding my husband's hand?"

"Hus-band?" Dean stammered, and Sam tried to ignore the expression of longing on their Cas' face.

"Yes, husband… other Dean trailed off and looked at him with pity. "You're still in that stage, I see".

"What stage? I'm just not - "

"Please, I see how you look at one another".

"When you're wearing your glasses" other Cas mumbled petulantly and other Dean gently rubbed circles into his hand with his thumb.

"Just a headups" he continued, looking right into Dean's face. "Dad was a douche, you're bi and Cas is great. It might make things easier in the long run. When I met Cas, I was still - apprehensive when it came to my sexual orientation. But it has all been worth it, believe me".

Sam would have laughed if it hadn't been clear that his brother was counting the ways he could make his counterpart's body disappear.

He mentioned the book again, and with their Cas' knowledge and other Dean's ability to read Ancient Greek like the latest Batman Comic, they were home by nightfall, but not before a hundred glances and touches between the husbands had proven that Dean could indeed be _like that_ , and very happy to boot.

Sam had expected his brother to deny everything.

He had expected him to turn to Cas and say something among the line of, "Bro, that was weird" but instead, there was a shy smile on Dean's face as he studied Cas, and their friend did a double-take before blushing and looking away.

Sam had never thought that he would come to appreciate the ability of strangers to appear in their motel room closets.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel was well-known, even famous, as the humans would have put it, in Heaven. He was a force to be reckoned with, a mighty warrior, an excellent strategist.

And yet he was still only garrison leader. Strange rumours told of times gone by when he had come close to rebellion; when he had almost forsaken Heaven for the newest creation of their Father.

Dean refused to believe them. Castiel was not like Lucifer, the most beautiful of them all whom Dean only knew through stories because he was a relatively young angel whereas Castiel was old as the skies.

Castiel had never shown interest in mating, that much he knew; he had built his nest close to the humans so that he could watch over them, far away from the high heavens Dean had chosen as the ideal place for his abode, and he had never courted.

Dean knew he would never consider an angel who was below him, so much below him as Dean was.

Dean was only a soldier, and he had erred, done wrong many times as the leader of his garrison let him know. Cas - no, Castiel, it was wrong to shorten names like humans did - was an experienced warrior, one of their best soldiers, some said even better than Gabriel, who had left before Dean had been created.

If Castiel knew he existed, he would turn away with disgust, Dean knew.

And yet he burned with the desire of feeling their grace mingle.

It was wrong. He shouldn't raise his thoughts to him.

Still he decorated his nest with blue flowers and feathers of birds, blue as his grace, blue as the eyes of his vessel.

It was a simple mission that went wrong. Dean and the brother he was closest to, Sam, were supposed to rid a town of demons; there turned out to be so many of them that their leader John commanded them to wipe out the town.

Dean had always avoided hurting humans. They were their Father's creations, unlike them but still beautiful.

He begged and pleaded, and John allowed them a day, a day to rid the town of the abominations who had burned in Hell.

They had to be rescued before they were being torn to shreds; many demons lay dead around them, but many more were attacking.

The last thing Dean remembered was a blue flash.

When he came to, his first word was, "Sam?"

"He is safe. He is being look after by his Mate" said a deep voice next to him.

He recognized Cas.

He opened his vessel's eyes and reaized he was lying in Cas' nest.

The nest he had never invited anyone in.

They must have been concerned that he wouldn't survive being taken to his own nest, so Castiel had allowed him to be laid down here.

He was healed now. He should leave.

"I know what you did".

He felt his vessel's cheecks blush. Of course Cas knew what he had done; he had chosen humans over the orders of his garrison leader.

He was a bad soldier.

He was nothing.

"Yes, I know - I have to go" he forced out, spread his wings and returned to his nest, his grace burning with shame.

Sam came later to offer him silent comfort, well aware of Dean's desires.

Soon after, gifts started to show up in Dean's nest. Whenever he would return, something new would be waiting for him, something from the human world; lovely flowers, small stuffed animals and a black toy car he loved especially.

He felt bad keeping them. This were courting gifts, intended to awaken his interest until the angel who wanted him as his mate stepped forward.

He was already interested in someone, and the gifts could never be from him.

Or so he thought.

Because one day, there was no gift.

But Cas stood there, grand and proud, right in the middle of his nest, looking at the gifts on display with obvious satisfaction.

"Cas?" Dean breathed and he smiled.

Dean had never see him smile.

He was more beatiful than ever before.

He stepped forward.

"Dean…" he said slowly. "You bear love for all of God's creations. You chose your own best friend among the angels, something only a few of us dare".

Dean shuffled his feet. What he had done by singling Sam out and spending much time with him and his mate Jess when they were not fighting was indeed unusual.

It sounded too much like Free Will.

He was a bad soldier -

A gently hand forced his chin up.

Electric blue eyes, lit up with grace, stared into his.

"Would it be possible for you to choose me as your mate?" Cas asked and Dean had only one answer.

It caused something of an uproar when Castiel and Dean mated, and that Dean chose to move into Cas' nest instead of insisting on keeping his own, in a place that far more befit a garrison leader; it was equally shocking that soon after, Sam, as one of the few angels ever to have done so, relocated with his mate so he could be closer to Dean and Cas.

They didn't care.

Dean was teaching Cas how to laugh. Cas was teaching Dean that Free Will wasn't always bad.

A new bond had been born.


	6. Chapter 6

The Dream Inhibitors were the one thing Sammy would never shut up about. Or no – one of the things he would never shut up about.

The other being mostly college (he wasn't going to go now, no point to it at all, the best he'd ever get was what he did now, part-time fixing cars and bartending, and he was fine) and his nutrition (he liked burgers, so what?)

But he kept coming back to the DIs. It was no big deal nowadays to take them; when Dean had first started, when he had been sixteen and realized where his life was going and decided that no poor bastard deserved to be dragged into this mess, he'd had to buy them on the streets, like drugs, in constant fear that they could sell him something else entirely.

Thankfully they hadn't and twenty-one years later he was still taking them, doctor-approved and purchased at his pharmacy.

He didn't mind that he was the only one who ever bought them. He didn't mind the looks.

He did, however, mind that his brother wouldn't stop nagging.

"You could be happy with them, just like I'm with Jess".

He rolled his eyes.

"Ever think I'm not one for being happy?"

It had been the wrong thing to say, and led to their biggest fight yet.

After Sam had stormed out of his apartment, Dean sighed and grabbed a beer. It was his own damn life, and he was allowed to screw it up any way he chose.  
Not that he was screwing it up. He was just doing what was best for everyone involved.

If he'd learned one thing, than that spending his life away from him was the best he could do for his soulmate.

His soulmate…

He hadn't thought about him in a long time. He missed the dreams a little at first because they were the only comfort left to him between Sam crying for food and his father's drunken ramblings, but his soulmate didn't deserve that. No one deserved being tied to Dean.

After all these years, he only vaguely remembered a blue-eyed boy.

The fact that one could never learn one's soulmate's name or enough information to find them on one's own in the dreams had never made sense to him. No, that wasn't quite true; one knew all that stuff perfectly well as long as one was dreaming, but waking up was only left with a vague picture of one's soulmate, not even enough to describe them properly.

And even that had faded over the years. Only the eyes had stayed.

Sam said that when one met them, everything came rushing back; but since Dean didn't even know anymore what they looked like, it didn't matter.

He didn't know what life his soulmate led, what he was doing, his hopes and dreams, but he was certain none of them included Dean. No one wanted him in that way, in a forever-I-couldn't-live-without-you way, and that was good. He had too much baggage, he could never make someone happy, and he wouldn't have to try thanks to the DIs.

Sam wouldn't stop complaining until he died, though.

Well, it was a small price to pay.

Or so he thought until he had the accident. Some douchebag ran the red light and crashed into Baby, and Dean's first thought before everything went dark was that at least no one safe for Sam would grieve for him.

And then he woke up.

And didn't.

It was confusing, and he needed forever to figure it out, but then he realized he was in that comforting, non-descript place he used to see his soulmate in.

He was in his Dream Space.

And when he didn't wake up, no matter how long he waited, he realized.

He was in a coma.

He was lying in a hospital bed, and he was in a coma.

And Sam had had his DIs discontinued.

He wished he could wake up just to scream at him. What good would it do? He was in a freaking coma, for crying out loud.

So he tried to get away, didn't succeed, of course, and suddenly, there he was.

Good God, his soulmate had become hot.

"Dean?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful, not a single reproach to be found in his expression as he stepped forward.

Castiel, he remembered. As a child, before he'd begun to distance himself, he'd called him Cas.

"Hello" he managed weakly.

Cas smiled at him, looking like he was about to burst into tears.

"You don't take them anymore. Thank you, thank you so much, I promise I'm not – "

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm lying in a coma" Dean interrupted him before they got all chick-flicky, "and no one told them they were supposed to give me DIs".

Cas looked away; his shoulders tensed.

Dean remembered now, remembered play dates when they were kids and countless hours during which Cas had comforted him because Dad drank more and more. He also remembered drawing back, Cas' pleas not to do it, his promises that he could change if Dean didn't like the way he was.

Dean had liked it very much. That was why he had taken the DIs to begin with.

"I know I am not very desirable" Cas said, and Dean wondered if the guy had no mirrors in his house, "but we could have just talked. I wouldn't mind if we never met in real life, or if we just saw each other once. We could have had just this. I was lonely".

The frank admission touched something in Dean, and he swallowed.

"It was never about you. My life was crap – it is crap. Trust me, you don't want any part of that".

"But I do" Cas replied so honestly that Dean had to turn away.

The next thing he knew, a soft hand on his shoulder was turning him back.

Then they were hugging.

"Like I said" he mumbled into his shoulder, "I'm in a coma".

"That's okay" Cas muttered back. "We'll manage".

And they did. Cas woke up of course, so Dean spent many hours alone; and it wasn't long before he began to look forward to the time he got to see Cas again.

It was dangerous, he could die any minute, he shouldn't really –

He was falling in love, and there was nothing he could do. Cas was funny, and charming in a quiet, strange way that was completely endearing; he was a teacher at a school not far from Dean's apartment, he loved bees and he had many siblings.

He listened to his ramblings about Sammy and told him he was sure he was okay.

Cas was everything he wanted, and after a long fight because Dean tried to push him away again, during which he told him all he'd done to keep his family together and failed, Cas surprised him with his admiration, with his smiles, with his words of comfort.

Afterwards, Cas had woken up in the meantime, it hit Dean.

He was in love with his soulmate.

And they could never be together. Dean was in a coma, had already been for quite some time, would most likely age and die in a coma unless Sam pulled the plug.

And he was scared to leave Cas behind.

He was sure that was happening when he suddenly felt weak and couldn't get up to greet Cas when he returned one day; he said nothing, but took him in his arms, and as Dean felt his tears seep through his t-shirt and his mind fading, he found that he had been an idiot all his life, and that his soulmate was his biggest regret instead of his greatest pride at the end.

The hospital ceiling was white. It was the first thing he registered apart from Sam's excited squeal.

After he'd been poked and tested and swore he'd never let a needle near him again, when they were alone, he said, "You discontinued the DIs".

He knew he had met his soulmate. He knew nothing more.

"I did".

"I don't want to take them anymore".

He didn't.

Even though he didn't know why.

Life went on. He went through physical therapy and learned that thankfully Bobby had begun to repair Baby, even though he left the finer stuff to Dean, and he, out of some inexplicable urge, began to look at college pamphlets when no one was looking.

Maybe restoration. It sounded kind of cool.

He also started eating salad now and then and cut back on the alcohol; and he always woke up with a smile on his face and a feeling that something would happen soon, something good.

It didn't make sense until the day he finally restored Baby and had just taken a celebratory turn around the neighbourhood. He got out of the car and someone behind him breathed, "Beautiful".

He turned around, always happy to hear compliments about his car, but all words died on his tongue as he looked into bright blue eyes.

That evening, he knew exactly who awaited him in his dreams, because he was falling asleep in his arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Cupid had brought love and lust upon the humans since the moment of their creation, and she was proud of the work she'd done. She had followed the plan, had made sure that every person's destiny was fulfilled as Fate would have it.

She was not really a woman, not in the human sense, of course; but she had spent enough time in her vessel to come to think of herself as one, and it helped when she had to interfere personally in hard cases, for example bump into someone when they refused to speak to the person they were destined to meet that day.

It might have been that she had grown a little too comfortable around humans, a little too accustomed to their ways; it would have explained her fascination with Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak.

Dean Winchester was destined for Lisa Braeden. They had met a few months ago, and were now dating casually; Cupid had orders to make them fall into deep and true love in one week.

But Castiel Novak was a different case. No true love was chosen for him; he would have a few relationships as time went on, but none would last. Still, he would be content.

Or would have been content. Because Castiel Novak had erred from the path, had denied Fate.

And he would be very unhappy as a consequence.

He should have had a small "crush" on Dean Winchester, as the mortals put it, when they had first met; it should have passed and a strong friendship that would last all their lives should have taken the place of these stronger feelings.

They were best friends, it was true; but either the cupid who had been assigned to Castiel Novak ten years ago, when he and Dean Winchester had met in high school, had made a mistake or his sould had been too stubborn, because it had held on to his crush, and now, at the age of twenty-seven, Castiel Novak was deeply and unrepentently in love with his best friend.

His soul had refused Fate, and now he had to pay the prize.

When Cupid had been assigned Dean Winchester and Lisa Braeden, she had been curious. Curiosity was not a normal trait for angels; she really must have spent too much time among her charges; but she felt the need to know Castiel Novak's changed destiny, and she asked. Fate was indignant because he had defied her, and she told Cupid.

Castiel Novak would spend his life hopelessly in love with Dean Winchester, and he would not be his best friend, He would watch the life of the man he loved from its fringes, his heart always full of desire.

On the day Dean Winchster and Lisa Braeden would fall in love, Castiel Novak would go to a bar with them; unable to watch them be happy, he would run out, tears in his eyes.

Dean Winchester would follow, and Castiel Novak draw him into a desperate kiss.

Dean Winchester would be shocked and angry, the man who had defied Fate would flee, and only months later would they agree to be friends again, a small echo of what had been, when they had spent nearly every waking moment together.

Cupid felt - something. She was not sure. She would later come to the conclusion that it had been pity, because only this could explain what she had done.

It came as Fate had predicted. Dean Winchester and Lisa Braeden were flirting at a table in the bar, Castiel Novak sitting next to his best friend, growing more and more distressed as the evening went on, and finally, he jumped up, mumbled an apology, and left hastily.

Dean Winchester immediately followed him, full of concern for his friend, concern and nothing more.

Cupid would never be able to explain why she did it. But as Castiel Novak proclaimed his love and drew Dean Winchester into the kiss that was to be their first and only, she raised her bow and sent an arrow of true love into Dean Winchester's soul.

It shouldn't have taken. Her arrows were only supposed to work on people Fate had chosen for one another.

The arrow took.

She watched, unable to comprehend, as Dean Winchester pushed Castiel Novak away as he was supposed to, but then stopped, stared, and drew him back in, mumbling between kisses "idiot" "should have known" "always knew" while his friend didn't hear because he was tearfully kissing him back, tears of joy this time.

Cupid had hit neither Dean Winchester nor Lisa Braeden yet, and when she came out of the bar a few minutes later, she didn't seem in the least surprised, shrugged her shoulders, and went back in.

In the next moment, Cupid was summoned to Heaven, and Fate was standing in front of her, angry, vengeful.

She gave her a chance to correct her mistake.

And Cupid learned that Castiel Novak's was not the only stubborn soul.

Dean Winchester clung to the love he had discovered for his best friend, clung as he told his family and his father became angry and his brother cried out "Finally!", clung as he dropped a few of his friends because they couldn't understand, clung as Castiel Novak admitted that he had loved him for years and he laughed and kissed him.

Dean Winchester had decided to be with Castiel Novak.

They would stay together despite Fate, and Fate had to admit defeat.

And Fate looked upon them, saw true love, and declared they should be happy.

So would be Lisae Braeden, who was to build a family with another man.

They called it an exceptional case; they called it the only time Fate had draw back.

Cupid called it different.

Watching from afar as Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak began their lives together, happy as few others, she called it Free Will.


	8. Chapter 8

It's become a routine, although he never thought it would, it has, just like taking his courses at Stanford and making dinner on Thursdays, when Jess has the late shift at the hospital.

Showing his ID (sometimes he doesn't have to anymore, a few attendants take pity on him) and being led down countless corridors to where his brother is being held (lives, lives, he should get used to it) has become a routine.

He remembers when it hurt far more than he does now, the beginning in another hospital when he still had hope, and he can't say if the dull acceptance that has been steadily building up in him is better or worse than the continual torment of those days.

Today, Dean is happy to see him, and thankfully reasonably happy, not like last week when he greated him tearfully and then poured salt he'd kept from lunch over him to make sure he was not a demon, then proceeded to yell how glad he was Sam made it "out of the pit".

Apparently, Sam had gone to Hell the week before, the doctors informed him.

Today, Dean is just happy, and it eases something of the knot that seems to have made a permanent habitat in Sam's throat when it comes to his brother.

It's always there, whether he's seeing, talking or thinking about him. In the first few weeks and months, he had to talk about him a lot.

Before Bobby's frantic call, before he rushed down to Lawrence, he was known among his fellow students as clever, dexterous, some even called him a "prodigy".

Now he's the one with the crazy brother.

He's also the one who visist him every week, craving to find traces of the man who raised him, the man he was before his mind snapped and made him believe all Dad had mumbled about when he was drunk.

Sam never should have allowed Dean to solely care for him when he left for Stanford. He should have visited more often after Dad died.

He should have -

He doesn't know what he should have done, but he would have done everything to spare Dean this fate.

Jess used to accompany him, at the beginning, before the black word "untreatable" was thrown around, before the doctors stopped making Dean take meds, shrugged their shoulders and talked about "permanent accomodation", as if Dean was looking for a new apartment, not a room with soft walls and barred windows. But Jess can't visit anymore because Dean freaks out every time he sees her, trying to drag Sam away, insisting that she's just an illusion of his dead girlfriend "out to get him".

Why she can't come back to life like Sam and Dean seem to do on a regular basis, Sam has no idea.

But today, Dean is happy and doesn't throw salt at him. Today, Dean looks even a little excited (on a normal level, thank God, it feels so good to see him like this).

Soon Sam learns why.

"I found him Sammy, I found him!"

"Who?" he asks, slightly concerned.

Dean rolls his eyes and points to another patient who's sitting on the table next to him, watching them with bright blue eyes.

For whatever reason, he's wearing a trench coat over his scrubs.

A memory of one of the craziest stories his brother told him flashes through Sam's mind, and he knows what Dean is about to say.

"Cas, Sam. Cas came back!"

Castiel, the angel who rescued Dean from Hell when he was dragged there by hellhounds (the first time? the second time? They seem to die a lot and Sam has trouble keeping track of the stories his brother's mind weaves, they are growing more and more complicated and are all connected).

"Oh?" he inquires because he still can't bring himself to act like he believes Dean, like he's part of his fantasy world, not even to make Dean feel better.

Part of him still hasn't given up hope. He knows it's ridiculous, but he can't help it. Somewhere in his mind, there has to be the brother he remembers, the one who fed him and read to him and fixed cars and proudly waved after him as he left for Stanford, not the ghost hunter who never gets to rest.

He's astonished when the blue-eyed man, who really looks like Dean described him, says, "Hello, Sam".

And suddenly he's caught in a conversation with two people who seem to agree upon everything crazy their minds can come up with.

He lasts for an hour before he excuses himself and goes to look for Doctor Crowley, who Dean sometimes likes and sometimes doesn't because apparently he's the King of Hell.

"Mister Novak" he confirms. "His wife had him committed when he assured their daughter he wasn't her father. His delusions complement your brother's to an extraordinary degree".

"How is that possible?" Sam demands.

Doctor Crowley sighs. "I don't know, Mr. Winchester. I can only run this place and watch things take their course".

And they do.

Over the next few months, Sam watches his brother and the man who thinks he's an angel fall in love and doesn't know what to do. There are gentle touches and blushes and long gazes, and he would be happy for Dean if -

If -

The doctors are as clueless as he is.

"We tried keeping them apart" Doctor Crowley admits one day "It led to an almost complete breakdown for both of them,"

"Does his wife -" Sam trails off as he watches Dean whisper something in Cas' - no, Jimmy's, he refuses to give in to the madness - ear and the other man giggle.

"She doesn't even visit. According to her, it would only hurt her and her daughter. It's not an unusual reaction. If I may say so, you are the exception".

Sam can't feel proud at that.

But eventually, he finds something like peace.

Because one day, he walks in on Dean and Cas holding hands and Dean announcing "Cas is human" and they both look as happy as they can be.

His brother is crazy.

But at least he's happy with his ex-angel.


	9. Chapter 9

"How are you?"

The question had become annoyingly familiar in the last few months. Not that he hadn't been asked before; but it seemed that every single member of his family, as well as his friends, had decided to begin conversations like that.

Apart from one exception.

"I'm fine" Dean said gruffly, putting the folder he'd been carrying in his hands on the desk with more force than strictly necessary.

"I can see that" was Charlie's only comment as she put a coffee-to-go in his hand, one from the good expensive shop not far from the school, and the English teacher smiled at her, feeling guilty.

"Sorry".

"No problem, my friend. So, you up for a girl's night out?"

Charlie had always invited all her friends to a "girl's night out" because she "didn't judge".

Another wave of guilt crashed over Dean as he realized he hadn't gone out with her in at least three months, but he shook his head.

"I've got plans".

He turned away because he didn't want to see the pity in her eyes.

In another week, he reflected at the end of the day, his studenty rushing out of the classroom as the eager teenagers that they were, he would have all the time in the world to spend with Charlie and Benny and his brother.

In another week, there would be nothing occupying his evenings.

In another week was Cas' thirty-fifth birthday.

This wouldn't have meant much, just Dean baking him a pie and they spending the day together, as they had for the last ten years.

Except that Cas was an angel, an angel with bright blue grace that sometimes shone through his eyes and beautiful black wings.

And unmated angels at the age of thirty-five had to return to Heaven to find a mate. Until they did, all visits to Earth were forbidden; and it often took a long time, decades, centuries for humans until angels agreed to bond together.

If Dean was lucky, he would see Cas again when he was an old man, and Cas was still young, beautiful, mated and happy, already forgetting about the unimportant human soul he had once called his best friend.

He felt tears gathering in his eyes while he made his way to his car, and blinked quickly to dispel them.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter that Dean had shown Cas all the best things humanity had to offer.

It didn't matter that they had been best friends since the moment Dean had spotted an angel in a laundromat, at twenty-five taking his first trip to Earth and fascinated by the necessity to wash one's clothes.

It didn't matter that Dean loved Cas.

Cas would be gone.

Cas would be gone and Dean would stay behind, pining for someone he could never have, someone who would have been disgusted if he had ever allowed the words that strangled his throat every time he looked into Cas' eyes to slip out.

Angels could stay with humans. Angels could bond with humans.

But it meant that they had chosen Earth over Heaven, and they could never return. They became mortal, their grace turned soul-like, all that was left of their angelic inheritance were the wings and the ability to fly.

Dean loved Cas. It was his problem, and his alone.

It was good that Cas didn't love him back.

Loving him back would condemn Cas to death.

Therefore it was good that Dean was too pathetic, too unimportant to inspire anything more than friendship. Hell, it was a blessing.

But it still hurt that Cas had to leave.

And no one believed him that he wouldn't suffer.

If he was being honest, he didn't believe it himself.

But there was nothing he could do about it, instead of spending every last minute with Cas.

And his friend didn't seem to have anything against it. He'd been staying at Earth a lot this last year.

He would miss the bees, Dean was sure. He loved to follow them around.

Maybe he would miss Dean too. He hoped that he would. A little. Just a little.

Not enough to hurt. But a little.

He'd barely closed his door when Cas knocked and he let him into his apartment.

"Hello, Dean".

He thought he would miss the greeting most of all.

The week passed. He barely saw anyone instead of his colleagues, the kids and Cas, and Sam, who went out with them a few times, to watch movies, to sit on park benches, to enjoy time with an angel who was his friend too before he was taken from them.

And all that went through Dean's mind was _The Last Time._

Forcing Cas to watch Star Wars again.

 _This is the last time._

Making burgers for Cas.

 _This is the last time._

Going to the zoo with his animal-loving friend.

 _This is the last time._

Never again would he see these blue eyes light up with excitement.

Never again would he hear this delighted chuckle.

Never again would he feel the warmth of Cas' wings envelop him during their rare hugs.

Somehow he managed to stay cheerful. Grief would come afterwards.

And then it was the last evening, the very Last Evening. The night beforethat , Dean had a nightmare.

 _He was old, very old. He didn't remember how old he was._

 _He was limping down the street, and his eyes weren't doing a very good job anymore, which was why he only recognized him after nearly running into him._

" _Cas!"_

 _It was indeed Cas, as he had last seen him, looking at him unconcerned._

" _It's me. Dean"._

 _Another angel came to stand beside Cas._

 _She was beautiful. Cas took her hand._

" _I'm sorry. I don't know anyone named Dean"._

He woke up crying.

But for this last evening, he could do it. He could be happy, he could smile. Cas went to Heaven to find someone, to get mated. To be happy.

So Dean could be happy to.

Cas looked sad and troubled when he arrived, but Dean didn't have the strength to comfort him. He was using every available bit of it to stay strong.

Then, after they had eaten Cas said, "I have a request".

"Anything" Dean agreed.

"I didn't say what it was".

"I don't care".

He didn't. He wanted Cas to be happy. He wanted Cas to remember him.

"Dean, you have shown me much. I couldn't be more thankful. But there is one thing - I have never participated in sexual intercourse."

His heart stood still.

Cas' eyes bored into his.

"I trust you more than any man I know. And I know you are attracted to both genders".

Cas had had a lot to do with that realization. Dean had never told him.

"Cas - " he croaked out. How could he? How could he take advantage of him?

But Cas wanted him to. Cas wanted him to make love to him.

Could he really say no?

When Cas looked at him again, his eyes pleading, Dean gave in.

Long before it was over, long before desire had pushed them over the edge, before they had stopped carressing each other and lay on Dean's bed panting, did he know that it had been a mistake.

He would never forget this, what it felt like to have Cas.

No one else would ever feel this good.

He closed his eyes and willed himself not to cry. Cas took him in his arms, put his wings around him. He buried his face in Cas' neck.

"I'll miss you" he mumbled. It was the only confession he allowed himself.

"I'll miss you too" Cas answered him and then started whispering words Dean recognized as Enochian. Maybe it was a blessing; maybe it was a goodbye. He only knew as he lost the fight against sleep that Cas was too polite to wake him, and that when he woke up, Cas would be gone.

Cas should never have allowed himself to whisper the words of the bonding ritual into Dean's skin, a mockery of what he could never have.

But he had to have at least that much. Because no angel would ever catch his fancy. He could never return to Earth.

He would never see Dean again.

He would gladly have given up his immortality and Heaven for Dean, if his friend had ever given him any indication that he wanted him that way, that his soul burned with the same love his grace held for the man in his arms.

He had allowed himself to ask Dean to give himself to him once. It was selfish, incredibly selfish, but the thought of never knowing, never having felt him during the millenia of his existence had been too much.

Why did he have to get mated at the young age of thirty-five? Why not three hundred and five? He could have stayed at Dean's side through his life then.

Watching him fall in love and be happy with a human would have been a blessing compared to this.

Cas repeated the words, his mind growing strangely sluggish.

Maybe their actions had exhausted him.

He didn't have to return to Heaven for a few more hours. He could rest next to his human, the only being he would ever love.

He woke up. Cas was gone.

Dean felt like screaming or crying and did neither.

He showered and ignored the missed calls and texts on his phone.

He wandered into the kitchen. He needed coffee.

The rest of his life had officially begun.

Cas was in his kitchen, buttering toast. His chest was bare and his wings were stretched and huge, indicating he was happy.

"Cas?" he asked, unbelieving what he saw. Perhapy he was dreaming. Or he had gone insane.

Cas turned around and smiled a bigger smile than Dean had ever seen on him.

"Dean!"

And then he was being kissed, and he figured he might as well go with it.

It was when Cas breathed against his throat "My beautiful mate" that his brain caught on.

He pushed him away.

"What?"

"I said the words. Yesterday, I pledged myself to you." Cas cradled his face in his hand.

"And your soul accepted the bond. You love me as I love you".

He sounded awed.

"But that - " Elation and shock fought in Dean's mind.

"But that means you'll die, Cas!"

"Yes" he confirmed, casually, carlessly.

"How can you be so calm about this?"

"Because" he said simply, "I get to live with you first".

And Dean, for the next fifty years, could never bring himself to be angry or ashamed for it.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean had no idea why he was here.

No, he got why he was here.

It was a bad idea, so of course he was here.

On a less depressive but quite as pathetic note, he was here because his hot neighbour had asked him to be here because his hot neighbour's painting were being exhibited.

So far so good.

But as to why he should accept invitation of said hot neighbour, who happened to be a brainy artist when Dean came home covered in motor oil every night and was now awkwardly standing around in a suit it was obvious he hadn't worn in years -

Yeah, that was a different question.

He was sorrounded by people who could compare every stroke of the brush to Monet or Manet or whatever the guy's name was - Dean had tried to listen on the occasional evening either he or Cas wouldn knock on the other's door with takeout, he really had, but all these names and the styles to - who had studied art history or just art in general, who could appreciate what Cas was doing.

Dean? He was here and he liked the paintings because he liked Cas. He thought the guy was good, but he had no way of knowing, and when he thought about his pictures, he thought of Cas' profile in the warm light of the small lamp on his desk, the strong hand that commanded the brush while he murmured about what art meant to him.

Dean told him about cars as a reply.

But needless to say, he didn't get art. He didn't get art like he got his cars, or his tv shows, or the few books he liked.

So the idea that anything would come out of his crush was - unlikely.

So why was he here?

Because Cas had come to him, all hopeful and his eyes shining and had said, "You're my best friend".

It had been as much a punch in the gut as it had been a compliment, but hey, he could do friends. He could pretend to enjoy himself when he could literally feel every single person in the gallery judging him.

Cas had mentioned that his family might drop by (and boy had Dean recognized that weary tone when speaking of close relations) but he couldn't see a single resemblance in the mass.

He'd just wait till Cas found him, congratulate him and leave. He could celebrate with his artsy friends.

He'd caught a brief glimpse of his neighbour during the opening, and Cas had smiled at him. Cas was happy he was here, so here he would remain. He didn't have to talk to anyone.

A grinning man with dirty blonde her, wearing an expensive jacket with a (he bet) equally as expensive v-shirt under it strolling right up to him made that resolution pointless.

"Hey" He stuck out his hand. "Balthazar".

"Dean" he introduced himself. The guy had an unexpectedly strong handshake. He remembered the name; Cas had mentioned him a few times. They had studied together.

Why would he introduce himself? The unpleasant idea that he was marking territory came to him, and he swallowed.

Not that it mattered. Cas had a right to date whoever he wanted to date.

"Cassie talks about a lot about you".

Yep, marking territory. At least Cas talked about him. Seriously, Cassie?

"We're friends" he said, trying to ignore the suspicion in his eyes.

"That woudl explain it. Have you seen all the pictures yet?"

He hadn't. He knew some from his visits, others were totally new to him, but mainly he stayed in teh shadows not to make things awkward.

When he shook his head, he was draggedinto another room before he registered what was going on.

"Here. The pride of the exhibition" Balthazar said, pushing him toward it.

It was a hug painting Dean had never seen. It must have taken him ages.

It was abstract, at least Dean thought that was what it was called. Green and blue, black and gold mixed together, creating their own world; it was warm and cold at the same time, passionate and calming, funny and sad.

It was perfect.

"What do you see?" Balthazar asked and Dean raised an eyebrow.

"This one professor we had, he would always ask that question. So, what do you see?"

He knew the answer, it was right at the tip of his tongue, but if he said it, Balthazar would know, it would be out in the open for all to see -

"Cas" he heard himself say. "It's Cas".

Unexpectedly, Balthazar started to laugh.

"That's rich. That's perfect. Have I convinced you now, Cassie?"

And Dean turned around to find Cas staring at him, his eyes just as hopeful as when he'd asked him to this exhibition in the first place.

"Cas - hi - I mean - "

"Do you want to know what I see?" his neighbour stepped forward.

"What do you see?" he asked, breathlessly.

Cas reached out, carressed his cheek.

"You. I see you".

The judging visitors were treated to the sight of their revered artist kissing the blue-collar worker right in front of his best piece. Balthazar cheered excitedly.

The rest of the evening was a blur, passed at the arm of the star of the hour.

Dean knew exactly why he'd come.


	11. Chapter 11

Until the moment Cas kissed him, Dean was completely unaware that he had a boyfriend and was apparently gay. Or bi, as Sam later hopefully pointed out, grinning.

The point was that he had not been informed that they were dating. They had met a few months before and had spent some - okay, most of their time together. But they had never really touched or kissed or done other stuff, so how was he supposed to know?

And why should he have suspected that he would even like to do… that stuff with Cas?

He'd only ever been with women. It wasn't surprising that he'd had no idea he was into guys too.

Sam laughed at that.

Screw him.

So he and Cas met when Cas got shoved into his arms - literally. There was a guy who had a bakery near Dean's home called Gabe, and he made really good pie, so it was logical that Dean should be a regular customer.

And one day the owner simply shoved his brother into his arms with the words "Cassie needs more friends".

So friends they became. And yeah, Dean showed him all the good things he'd been missing out on, like Start Trek and Doctor Sexy, and Cas didn't laugh at him when he admitted he actually loved reading, especially Vonnegut, and they went to the movies and to restaurants and were planning to take a road trip in the summer, and they had fallen asleep together on the couch several times.

God damnit. No wonder Cas had kissed him that morning at the airport when he left to visit his parents for a few days and thought they were dating.

They were dating.

Kinda.

They were also boths guys.

Dean was bothered by how it didn't bother him at all until Sam held up a list of his "men crushes".

Dean used the confusion as to why Sam should keep a list of men his brother found attractive to distract from the fact that - yeah, Cas was pretty hot.

And intelligent.

And funny.

And charming.

And into him.

What was his problem again?

Really, the whole bisexuality thing wasn't bugging him as much as it should.

Because it was _Cas_. He could have _Cas_.

And suddenly he wasn't bothered by Sam laughing anymore at all.

And maybe it happened that four days later he stood at the airport with a bucket full of roses.

What? He could at least admit that he'd been an idiot in style.


	12. Chapter 12

Cas knew the inhabitants of his small world. The smell of well-loved or newly printed pages, the dusk of narrow corridors, the unmistakeable air of seclusion and privacy his shop promised drew in certain types of book buyers.

There were those searching for certain titles or authors, their hungry eyes ignoring anything that wasn't the book they wanted.

There were those who read everything and could never get enough of browsing through the shelves of his stores, their fingertips slightly caressing the book's backs.

There were those who stumbled in because they were looking for a present, who had come across his place by accident, confused and helpless.

Cas knew the types. He felt safe and happy in his neat world where books were made to be cherished and the people who came in knew mostly exactly what they wanted.

But two months ago, someone had come in who had shattered his certainties, had ripped up the pages of the story he knew so well.

He didn't know his name. He knew he had beautiful green eyes and freckles, and a deep pleasing voice.

He also knew that he read everything - from science fiction to cook books - so he should have fallen into the category of bibliophiles Cas recognized at a glance.

But he didn't.

He never seemed happy to entere his store, to walk down the shelves. He looked angry, annoyed, when he chose a book, and yet cradled it in his hands like something precious.

Cas wouldn't have sold him a single volume otherwise.

But why should he look so reluctant when he bought books? Even if he bought them for someone else, there was no reason to be so exasperated.

And Cas felt that he wasn't buying them for someone else. He was reading them himself.

They never talked. And yet Cas began to look forward to his visits, although he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the _Book Shop_.

His siblings had laughed at him when he had declared this was the only name his store would have. It was a book shop. There was no reason not to call things by their proper names, to keep everything in order.

And the green-eyed man denied him exactly that, didn't allow himself to be classified, read everything but reluctantly and had never smiled at Cas, although he was aching to know how he looked like when he was happy.

If books didn't make him happy, why would he come to _Book Store_ at all?

Cas would never ask. It wasn't his place.

But one day, he was ringing up _Paradise Lost_ for the man, his gaze fell on his hands.

They were calloused. Worker's hand. Cas didn't agree with the stereotype that only white collar workers liked to read, but he had seen how he handled books - how gently he picked them up, even though he looked enraged as he did so - and it told him that he loved the written word as much as Cas.

"Why?"

The word left his lips before he knew he was going to speak.

Green eyes blinked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

He had heard that voice before, but they had only greeted each other. This was talking.

Cas didn't talk often in his pleasant, understandable world.

He wished he could take it back, but the man clearly waited for an answer, and if he was to lose a client, at least it would be because he was honest.

He shuffled his feet as he answered, looking at the book, Milton's immortal verses running through his head, calming him down.

"You come in here at least once a week and you buy books but you don't seem to enjoy it".

"I have to enjoy paying something now?"

"No - no - there is nothing of that - anticipation, of that happiness that comes with finding a good book - "

"My God" the man said. "You really love books, don't you?"

"So should you" Cas mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. "When you're buying them".

He surprised him with his answer.

"I agree".

"You do?" he asked dumbly.

He nodded.

"I actually love reading" he said quickly, and it sounded like a confession. "I know I'm not supposed to - "

"Why aren't you supposed to?"

"Look at me, man. I'm a mechanic who dropped out of high school. People don't expect me to like books".

"I - " Cas stopped. Hadn't he done the same? No, he'd been surprised that Dean didn't show his love openly. He had never thought one group of people more likely to read than another.

He had always based his opinion on people on how they treated books, how the handled other people's stories.

And this man treated them well.

"I don't mind" he assured him and for the first time, the man laughed.

And the laughter blew through the book store, through Cas' world, and made it explode into colours, changed and ripped up pages, created chapters he hadn't known before.

He swallowed as a hand was extended towards him.

"I'm Dean" the man said. "Dean Winchester".

He took the offered hand and replied, "Castiel Novak".

And only when Dean inquired "Like the angel?" did he remember that his very first purchase had been an _Encyclopedia of Angels_.

It was the very first time he closed the shop early. It was the very first time that he had dinner with someone who wasn't a family. It was the very first time he felt a connection with something other than books.

It was the very first time he was kissed.

His world had changed, expanded, until he didn't recognize it anymore, but it was alright, because the beautiful man who wished he didn't love books so much came to admit that he had found peace with it because he happened to love a book seller just as intensely.

And Cas looked down at the kneeling man who, instead of a ring, had bought him a new and highly expensive edition of Blake's poetry and changed his world once more with a simple word.


End file.
